


A Habit for Hyperbole

by Catzgirl



Series: The Grunge Hobo Learns to Trust [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Flith, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smutty, Water Sex, because that's how i roll, this is literally just filth, you've been warned!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catzgirl/pseuds/Catzgirl
Summary: Caleb takes a one-time fear and uses it in the very best of ways.





	A Habit for Hyperbole

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh! I'm so sorry this is out a few days later than expected! I managed to spend my weekend very drunk and thus incapable of getting any writing done.  
> There were a few ways this could have played out, but this is the one that felt best to me, so I rolled with it!

It isn't as if he's suddenly without secrets. 

There are questions that Fjord asks that Caleb won't answer. Things about his family, about his magic, about his goals. It doesn't make him feel guilty- these are questions Fjord also will not answer. Fjord, the Warlock who will not say who his patron is. Who occasionally vomits saltwater upon waking. Who once, after being grievously wounded in battle but before Jester had healed him, spoke to Caleb in a strange, unaccented voice that Caleb has not heard since and that neither of them has remarked upon. Caleb may have offered up one of his weaknesses, bared his soul over the torture he withstood, has allowed himself to accept the help and compassion of a man freely offering both. He knows that being with Fjord will make him,  _has_  made him, stronger. He knows that being with Fjord will be, has been, a test of endurance: Fjord is going to Soltress and Caleb will not leave Nott. The very nature of their paths begets a divergence. 

He hopes that if he is very clever, and if he plays his cards very well, maybe he can skew the results in his favor. 

And Caleb can be very clever. After all, it isn't as though he's totally without secrets. The sort that he keeps are not for the incautious or the unwise. With a little planning, nothing is out of his reach. 

* * *

 

"I have something to show you," he says. It's not his first words of greeting after weeks spent apart, but it's his first words in private. He's been traveling with just Jester and Yasha and Nott, and he's in desperate need of time away from everyone else. And it's not just a line- he really does have something up his metaphorical sleeve. 

Fjord cocks his head, eyes as sharp as ever and still scanning for injury, as if not wholly convinced that Caleb is really standing in front of him. He knows that Fjord will note that his hair, his clothes are clean, even though Fjord himself hasn't been present to take care of these things. Knows his half-orc will mark it as progress. Caleb's shiver is from the chilly night as much as from  _other_  thoughts. "Lead the way," Fjord says when Caleb takes him by the hand and tugs, allows himself to be pulled away from their friends. 

Beau smirks at them knowingly as they slip out the front of the inn, in the way that says that she'll cover for them but to expect hell upon return. Something for Future Caleb to worry about. Current Caleb is in a hurry and decides not to think about it. 

It's exactly 11:47 by the time they hit the border of the forest. Fjord doesn't issue a word of protest, and wisely does not choose to comment on their leaving town completely. Caleb isn't gifted with night vision, but he's made this path a few times in the past days for his trials, knows it well enough by now that he doesn't stumble in the darkness and underbrush. Roots catch at his feet and his teeth are almost chattering with cold, Fjord asks more than once if he needs to stop and warm himself with magic. For all of that, it's not a terribly long walk, it's only 12:02 by the time Caleb sweeps a large tree branch from the path with one arm, and gestures with the other, "Well? Go on." 

Fjord lets out a low whistle. Before them are a cluster of hot springs, light wisps of steam rising from them, thickening the climate of the small glade with humidity. "How exactly did you find this?" Fjord's voice is a little awed as he steps closer to the nearest spring. 

"Trade secret, I'm afraid," Caleb says, immensely relieved to be out of the cold, and lets the tree branch go so that it closes the glade neatly, obscuring them from sight and partially from sound. He's checked: the glade is its own little bubble, that only way to see into it is to enter it. "I've been practicing something. I thought you might like a demonstration." 

Fjord turns from the water, and Caleb casts globules of lights around the springs so that he gets to see darker green flush Fjord's face, catches his eyes raking up and down Caleb's body. Even in just his usual threadbare coat and pants, Fjord's yellow eyes go golden and hooded. 

Caleb doesn't have much in the way of swagger. He is awkward and socially inept and he knows it, uses it to his advantage when he can. But he musters up what little he has in the way of confidence, says to Fjord, "You realize that I did not walk all this way to enjoy the view of them, yes?" 

Fjord barks a quiet laugh, drawls, "No, I don't reckon you did," and shucks his boots off post haste. Holds Caleb's gaze as he undoes his belt, lets his pants drop without ceremony. His lips twitch into a smirk as his briefs drop, too, and Caleb's adams apple bobs with the effort to hold his gaze on Fjord's eyes, unwilling to be the first to break. Fjord's fingers are quick with the straps of his armor, gentle in setting it aside. His under shirt is rucked up and tosses aside more liberally. Caleb watches intently. 

They each have their own secrets. Someday their paths will diverge permanently. It's his privilege to be here, now. He's been told- mostly by himself- that he has a keen memory. He wants to use it now to remember every moment of this, to catalogue it like one of his spells, to be pulled out and waxed over at length. Caleb watches as Fjord turns his back on him, eyes narrowing in concession as he does, and eases into the spring. The water reaches to his chest as the half-orc stretches both great green arms to the sides, rests them on the rocky ledge of the pool, and makes of show of sighing in relaxation. 

An invitation, if he ever needed one. 

Unlike Fjord, Caleb has planned this evening. Once he's sure that Fjord's eyes have wandered back to him, he lets his illusion drop. 

There is a considerable amount of startled splashing and curses from the hot spring. 

"Godsdamnit, Caleb," and the words are angry but the heat behind the tone is entirely lacking, "We coulda been attacked or something and where would you be?" 

He shivers again, despite the humidity and heat, utterly nude. Fighting against the sudden heat in his face, he walks to the edge of the water, says, "I suppose you would have had to be useful for once." There's a growl welling in Fjord's throat: there are a lot of buttons he will allow Caleb to press, but playing with his own safety isn't one of them. Caleb shudders as he stoops and eases into the water, the heat delicious and welcome, says, "It was for  _your_ benefit, I assure you." 

Fjord's face softens a bit at that. The water comes up to his chest, which means that Caleb has to tread a bit to stay comfortably above the waterline. Fjord's voice is gravely when he says, "C'mere," and reaches for his wizard.  

Caleb goes, wraps his arms around Fjord's neck, lets the water take his weight so he can press the length of himself against Fjord. There's a kiss, short and sweet, before Fjord cups his cheek and grumbles, "I'm the responsible one. Can't be mad at me for fussin' over you comin' out here in nothing but your magic." 

Caleb leans back, feels the corners of his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile, says, "Are you pouting? You do realize that I can feel how hard your cock is?" 

Fjord groans and tilts his head back, protests, "One ain't got anything to do with the other!" over Caleb's laughter. But when he tilts forward again he's smiling too, despite himself.  Admits in a voice that just for Caleb, "This was a mighty nice surprise." 

"I've only set the stage, thus far. The illusion was just for convenience," Caleb says, and kisses him. 

Kissing Fjord is always a little bit like magic: it starts slowly. Slow and gentle and warm, his arms around Fjord's neck and Fjord's arms around his waist, mouths moving against each other. The power of a spell isn't in the casting, though, it's in the moment after, and there's always a moment when Caleb is kissing Fjord that everything changes. He can feel a hard length against his ass, and he bobs in the water a bit, trying to grind down on it. It elicits a deep groan from Fjord, he nips at Caleb's bottom lip, then swipes it with his tongue in apology, and the spell is cast. 

Afterwards there's just fire. 

Caleb clenches every muscle in his ass, grabs onto Fjord's cock and rolls his hips in teasing little jerks. His hands wander from Fjord's neck to the back of his head, grasping for purchase on the short-shorn hair there as Fjord's tongue finally slips into his mouth. His own tongue darts forward because he's eager- for the taste of him, which never disappoints- and he traces the veins in the underside of it before sucking, hard, the way he wants to suck Fjord's cock. 

Fjord is a bit of a tactile lover. One of his hands scrapes up and then down Caleb's back with enough force that the blunted finger nails leave raised and sensitive trails in their wake. The other hand slides further down to fit Caleb's hips against his, grinds his pelvis until Caleb's cock is trapped between them, whispers, "Convenience? I was countin' on those pockets of yours for a bottle of lube. Far as I'm concerned, this is a bitch of an unsatisfactory situation." 

Caleb's head tips back in laughter that turns into a moan. His breath comes in short pants, and he hopes that's what Fjord focuses on instead of the hands casting a spell literally behind his back. "I have a perfect for solution for that," he says, "I have been practicing something while you were away. I hope that you enjoy it; please try not to interrupt." 

A blue flash emitted behind Fjord- the sign that his spell had been successfully cast- and he dropped a final kiss to Fjord's mouth before straightening his legs and jackknifing under the surface of the water without so much as a warning. 

Fjord's entire body goes very still. 

Caleb may bathe more regularly, may allow Fjord to wash his hair, but he has never in all their months of traveling attempted any type of swimming or submerging since almost dying. It has not even been something they've discussed. Caleb opens his eyes under water, finds that the spell extends to them as expected so that he sees clearly and without issue, opens his mouth and takes a deep breath and _does not panic_. 

Clever- he has needed to be clever in his life very often, and his fingers are clever now as they skim up and down the insides of Fjord's thighs, lets them slide around to take a firm grip of Fjord's muscular ass as he noses into his very favorite pelvic bone. The time is exactly 1:39 in the morning, and the spell has a very limited duration. His body is utterly weightless, he anchors himself with a strong grasp on Fjord's body, and takes Fjord's extraordinarily hard cock into his mouth. 

At the first touch, Fjord's hips jerk involuntarily. Caleb anticipates it, lets the embrace of the water caress his body so that he moves with it, isn't choked or even hindered overmuch. Fjord's hands flex at his sides, unsure and unimposing, so Caleb takes one and sets it on the top of his head, squeezes it until Fjord takes a fistful of hair into his grip. Then he mouths down the length of green cock available to him- little kisses, tongue darting out to trail the veins and ridges that he knows so well. One of his hands maintains its grip and his position, the other comes up to cup Fjord's balls, forming a ring with his fingers and tugging the sack gently. 

When his lips seal around the tip of Fjord's cock, he hears a steady stream of words somewhere in the air above him, but the water muddles it into nonsense. 

It's the most pleasing thing he's ever heard. 

The water is warm around him, and his lungs feel hot with humidity but blessedly dry. He is fiercely glad that he practiced this more than once, that his lungs expand and contract at his command instead of freezing in despair. His hands are steady when he sinks his nails into Fjord's upper thighs, leaving halfmoon marks for Future Caleb to sigh and croon over. The angle of his body- flat and perpendicular to Fjord's- gives him an idea that has his own cock leaking, milky drops of precum drifting around him like pearls. 

He is wholly, dreadfully human. His body is, woefully, a bit smaller in certain regards than a half-orc's. In the past he has had to do the best he could with what he's had, but now? He lets his jaw drop as far as it's able, pulls himself forward through the water using Fjord as leverage.  

Slowly, slowly, slowly. This is not something that can be rushed. He may have given himself the power to breathe underwater, but he still needs to  _breathe_. The head of Fjord's cock hits the back of his throat- every inch of him is deliciously smooth and silky and salty- and he flattens his body so that his esophagus is one straight line, pulls himself forward and breathes deeply through his nose and,  _yes_ , the defined ridge of the head  _pops_  from mouth to throat seamlessly. He pulls himself forward further, further, further until his nose is buried against Fjord's skin, the cock in his throat twitching, and Fjord is  _shaking_ in Caleb's hands. The hand Fjord has in his hair drifts down, the words above him a good deal louder without becoming a bit more coherent, until Fjord touches Caleb's throat. His fingers trace the outline of his own cock, palpable through the thin skin, and maintains a light pressure as Caleb slowly slowly  _slowly_  pushes himself away until only that thick head remains in this deepest part of his skull. 

From there it's simple rinse and repeat, he thinks. It's exactly 1:53, and he's sure he can get Fjord to cum like this, even as he's not at all sure if he can handle swallowing while his entire throat is swollen and distended with dick. He noses into Fjord's pelvis and bobs his head just slightly, flexes his throat muscles, revels in the loud, indeterminate cursing coming from above his head. He would grin if he could, but instead starts to retreat, hallowing his cheeks all down the thick length. When he starts to move forward again, Fjord jerks him away by his hair and above water again. 

He gasps, panting, as Fjord's hand comes up to his neck and uses it as leverage to turn Caleb so that his back is to the spring's walls. He tries for a deep breath- finds that Fjord has used the exact amount of pressure on the column of his neck to inhibit his breathing as it had been when filled with cock. Fjord's eyes are  _molten_ , his voice is  _wrecked_ as he says, "Godsdamnit Caleb, is that what you've been practicing?" He crowds into Caleb, lifts him by his throat until he obediently wraps his legs around Fjord's waist. 

Between his strenuous exertions and the grip on his vocal cords, Caleb's voice is little more than a rasp, but he gets out, "I wanted to surprise you. Give you something to look forward to the next time we're separated." 

A long moan peals out of him, unbidden, when two fingers plunge into his ass. Fjord's face is dark green, lips pressed thin in concentration as he scissors his fingers- equal measures impatient and careful. His elongated canines catch the light when he snarls, "You think I need something extra to look forward to?" 

He doesn't want to say it, but he's promised to be honest. "While you were gone- I worried that you wouldn't come back." 

Three fingers now and he moans again, tries to hold back a curse and fails, tries to grind down but is stopped by a snarl, by Fjord asking, "Wasn't a tougher job than usual. Why wouldn't we come back alright?" 

Caleb looks him in the eye- and he's always enjoyed that his blue and Fjord's yellow would make an exact match to his favorite green skin- and confesses, "Not the group.  _You_. Worried  _you_  wouldn't come back." 

The nature of their paths beget divergence. Fjord is going to Soltress to learn magic and tell stuffy old academics about his mysterious Patron, and Caleb is going to keep running until he finds somewhere his problems won't think to look for him. Every time Fjord walks out of his eyesight, there's a chance he won't return. 

It's not the answer Fjord expected, if his wide eyes are anything to go by. It gets him what he wants, anyway. 

Caleb's ass gapes in the water as Fjord retracts his hand, leaves him no time for protest as he thrusts upwards and sheathes himself wholly. Caleb keens a high pitched, reedy slip of a noise as Fjord's fingers on his throat tighten. The hand on his hip keeps him stationary as Fjord pumps into him, movements slowed by the drag of the water but no less powerful, and the half-orc is snarling, near feral, says, "I will  _always_  come for you." 

 _Yes_ _yes_ _yes_ _yes_ and he isn't sure if he's saying it or thinking it, because he could never have asked for this, could never have demanded for Fjord to make this type of vow, but he's been  _so clever_  for it to have worked out this way and 

"You hear that? I will  _always_  come for you, Caleb." Fjord lifts him partially, changes the angle so that white-hot lighting spears his vision, curls his toes, "And not jus' on account of you deep throating my cock under-fucking-water. You understand me?" His hand on Caleb's throat releases and the flood of oxygen is almost painful, involuntary tears gather at the corners of his eyes as he nods. " _Say it_ , Caleb." 

"Fjord," he says instead, because it's all his brain can put together, fingers scrabbling against Fjord's back, "Fjord  _please_." 

There's a hand on his cock, hard and fast and utterly without mercy as Fjord continues to pound into his body. There is not an inch of him that is not on fire, that is not overwhelmed and incoherent as the  _heat_  pooled in the pit of his stomach threatens to burn through his entire existence. 

Fjord's teeth are on his neck and if he doesn't already have the makings of a hand-shaped bruise he will most definitely have a teeth-shaped scar if the burning sensation of a piercing bite is any indication. His shoulders begin to seize as he clamps down on the wave of pleasure riding him  _too much too much too much_  but he will not- he cannot- not without Fjord 

"Come for me, Caleb," voice as rough as shards of rock salt, "Come for me darlin', right now," and he  _does._ He comes so hard that it spurts out of the water before splashing back, he comes so hard that he screams with it into the night, he comes so hard that he thinks- wildly- that he might actually be dying, that this has been a final good dream before succumbing to permanent darkness. 

Fjord follows only a moment later, thrusting deep and true and _holding_ so that Caleb can feel every involuntary jerk of the cock inside him, the thick spurts of cum rocking his body as Fjord's voice raises in a claiming bellow that rattles the very stars. 

He doesn't even know that he's passed out until he's waking up. 

* * *

 

A familiar scene: tucked into bed while Fjord plays idly with his hair, silver string glinting from every window sill and the door frame, their clothes draped with care over bits of furniture throughout the room. It is exactly 3:26 in the morning. He feels as though he could sleep for a week. 

Instead he says, "I know you'd come back for me. I have always known that." 

It's a lie, but Fjord doesn't call him on it. Strokes down the side of Caleb's face, stretches languidly against him, says, "I have never been more proud of you." Kisses his cheek, looks at him with eyes gone soft and fond. "Still gonna wash your hair myself, though." 

There's verdant arm roped around his shoulders, and it squeezes in reassurance. Some things are better left unspoken. He tucks his face neatly into Fjord's chest, tangles their legs together and imagines that he's done the same with their lives' paths.  

Fjord will go to Soltress. Caleb still has things to run from, things of his own to do. There are still too many secrets between them. But for the first time in a long time he takes a deep breath with lungs that are not partially paralyzed with anxiety and doubt. 

As he falls into the blissful sleep that only the very well-fucked can achieve, he thinks that maybe they can make this work after all. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for the wonderful kudos and comments on the first 2 parts of the series!! When I wrote part 1 I thought it might be a one-shot, I never imagined there'd be so many people that enjoyed it or that cared to see more! I really wanted for Caleb to take something that he'd been so afraid of and use it as part of his plan to get Fjord to bind them together more formally. You know, instead of just asking for a committed relationship, because that makes more sense to the anti-social hobo wizard.  
> I hope this lived up to everyone's hopes!


End file.
